The season of Wakes, St Johns Eve and thereabouts. From Middle English wacu, a watch. Niht wacu=night watch.Reviled and outlawed by the Puritans in the 1640s. Restraint and proscription of pleasure the salient of the assault on nature.

Come Anthea, let us twoGo to Feast, as others do.Tarts and Custards, Creams and Cakes,Are the Junketts still at Wakes...

would encapsulate the dream state, or gloaming spell, that induced this poem, probably hatched down near Jim's cabin at the bottom of Mesa Road; though the eucalyptus woods behind our Ur-stwhile place on Larch might also have been the region of inception.

(The five lines in bold in the post above, Side Order, also originated upon the Mesa, those from a notebook entry made in one of those charming homemade geodesic family dwellings of the period... which I speculated at the time might well have looked like craters from the POV of the Apollo astronauts ... all this back in the daze of one small step for mankind & c.)

Had your poetry and photos not nudged me to follow some of the links you offer, I might be less mute regarding today's posts. The glimpse into your remarkable life of writing and exploration tells me so much about your rich content, your uncommon kindness toward us aspirants.

Our previous home in the foothills brought raccoons (also coyotes, mountain lions) but our cat would not back down one evening when the raccoon wanted first to eat, then to tussle, resulting in one or both of them shredding the screen door. I think I can identify the culprit.

Yes, I imagined that (those 5 lines in bold in "Side Order"), seeing Jessica (and "Air" below), and note (here) on eucalyptus and Mesa Road and Larch is welcome one (to me -- how good to think such 'events' are still present in your Berkeley world.